


Knocked Together

by ThePackWantstheD



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Affection, Based on a Tumblr Post, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePackWantstheD/pseuds/ThePackWantstheD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Maine and Wash develop a habit and, through it, a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knocked Together

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a much larger fic which ended in the destruction of said relationship due to sigma, but I thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to leave things at a happy ending for once.
> 
> Based on this post: http://arancar-no-6.tumblr.com/post/111164954655/please-consider-maine-and-washs-primary-form-of

**I.**  
Wash was seated on the bench, loading his gun, when a shadow fell over him.

He didn't have to look up to know who it was. There was only two other people in the ship - and one of them was piloting.  
"Maine."

The other man grunted, gestured his head towards the door.

"Ah, almost there then?" Maine nodded. Wash clapped his hands against the gun in his lap before swinging it around his body. "Alright, let's go."

Maine hadn't been expecting Wash to move so suddenly so he was still looming over him. When Wash got up, the top of his helmet smacked into Maine's face plate and the jolt sent Wash spiraling right back down to his seat.

He let out a sharp hiss and reached up to touch the throbbing injury. He wished, for a moment, that he could rip his helmet off, run his fingers through his hair, and feel the bump that had resulted. However, it didn't seem like a good idea to be taking his armor off when they were as close to the mission as they were.

"Ugh," he groaned instead. "That hurt like a bitch."

Wash looked up, hand still pressed against his helmet, with the intention of apologizing for not telling Maine before he moved.

When he lifted his eyes though, he found the bigger man had his hand sprawled open on his face plate and his shoulders shaking gently.

For a second moment, panic spread down Wash's spine. They had only just started settling into their partnership, Wash had finally adjusted and learned how to communicate with Maine and Maine's angry growls had been reduced by at least two percent, but Wash had fucked that up already. Somehow Wash's head had managed to completely break Maine.

All at once, though, it occurred to him that Maine was laughing.

A smile spread over Wash's face. He let out a huff of amusement, asking, "You find this funny, huh?"

Maine didn't answer, just lifted his free hand and showed Wash two fingers held almost together. Just a little, the gesture communicated.

"Drop off in sixty seconds!" yelled the pilot.

"Alright!" Wash lifted to his feet, stepping around Maine before they clashed again. Feeling energized by the fact that he'd made Maine laugh - Maine who was so unshakable in his stony silence and scary looks -, Wash stepped up to him again. He curled his fingers around the back of Maine's neck and pulled him close. He bumped their helmets together properly, careful of Maine's hand still on his face. "Let's get 'em, big guy."

 **II.**  
"Three minutes out! Finish gearing up, guys!" Four-Seven-Niner's voice cut through the noise.

The conversations the team had been having - South raging about something while North tried to calm her temper, Wyoming communicating with Florida via wide hand gestures and suggestive jokes, York and Wash trading off lines of some pop song from they were children - faded into silence as they prepared their weapons.

They didn't usually do full team missions, training or otherwise, so when they did it always put them on edge. The mission would be harder, requiring them to put in a level of professionalism and dedication their missions usually lacked unless something went wrong.

"You're absolutely sure the next line isn't 'Just hit me with the truth?'" York asked as he passed Wash two grenades.

"Positive," Wash answered as he stored the weapons. "That's only at the beginning of the song."

"I feel like you're fucking with me. I could have sworn-"

He was cut off by a rough growl.

"Hey Maine," Wash greeted. He ignored the sharp breath York let out as he turned towards his partner. "What's up?"

Maine took a step forward, tilting his head down towards Wash.

"Oh. Here?" Wash questioned, glancing around at the others. "In front of everyone?"

They did it before starting every mission, but they hadn't had a group mission since before it had started. They were already the talk of the group, everyone amazed by Wash's ability to understand Maine and Maine's sudden interest in actually communicating with someone, and Wash wasn't sure he wanted to make it worse.

A shrug and a nod.

"Okay then," Wash answered.

He stepped forward and reached for Maine's head. He tilted towards the touch, making it less of a reach for Wash.

Their helmets bumped together and Wash murmured, "We've got this."

Maine let out a soft sound of agreement, nodding along with it.

The motion bumped their heads together a second time and brought a smile to Wash's lips.

Wash let go, stepping away.

Maine turned as soon as he did, making his way back over to Carolina who was holding a rather big gun. Wash didn't doubt that he was on a mission to steal it from her.

"What was that all about?" York questioned. Wash looked over his shoulder, finding that he had moved closer now that Maine had waked away. "Some secret code you two figured out?"

"No. It's just a thing we do." He shrugged as he turned to face York completely. "And honestly, you are ridiculous. He's not even remotely scary, but you freak out every time he comes near."

"You are literally the only one who doesn't find him fucking terrifying." York paused before adding, "Well, you and Carolina. It must be in your blood."

 **III.**  
Wash let out a groan as he rolled on his bed. He let his legs hang off the edge of his bed while he kept his face buried in his pillows.

There was a grunt from the other side of the room where he knew Maine was sitting. Last Wash had checked, the other man had been stretched out on his own bed as he cooled off after his workout.

"I have a training session with CT," Wash said. He pushed his head further against his pillows, hoping that Maine would still be able to hear his voice even though it would be muffled. "But I don't want to move."

There was a soft amused sound.

"Fuck off. I'm comfortable, okay?"

Silence reigned for a moment.

Wash was just about to sigh and resign himself to his fate, when he heard the creak of a bed moving.   
He listened to the heavy fall of Maine's footsteps crossing the room. A finger brushed against the top of his hand a warning, before wrapping around his wrists. He didn't resist as Maine used his hold to pull him into a sitting position.

They sat there for a minute, just staring at each other.

Wash could feel a blush crawling up his neck.  
It wasn't as though he hadn't had close contact with Maine before, but they were out of armor and sitting on Wash's bed. There was a certain amount of suggestion in the position that Wash found simultaneously exciting and unnerving.

"I gotta get going," Wash said at last. "CT is gonna be brutal if I'm late."

Maine let out a low huff, the sound amused.

"Yeah, I know."

Maine shifted. He leaned forward and bumped their heads together lightly. Then he grumbled, voice low and husky, "Good luck."

Wash stared at him as he pulled away and sat back down on his own bed.

This was the first time they'd done their head hitting thing outside of armor. It was also the first time Maine had spoken to him, with his voice, out of the battlefield.

 **IV.**  
"What's wrong with you?" York questioned as Wash walked up to the table.

He settled himself next to Maine, tossing his tray onto the surface without any real direction. North reached out and stopped it before it could slide off the other end of the table.

"I slept for five extra minute," Wash grumbled, "and all the cinnamon rolls are gone."

"Really?" North glanced at the canteen on the other side of the room as he slid Wash's food back towards him. "It's still pretty early though."

Wash just groaned. He picked up his fork, poking at the bowl of oatmeal on his plate. "This sucks."

There was a noise from next to him, an arm bumping against his. A second later there was a cinnamon roll sitting on Wash's tray.

He stared at it for a minute before turning to Maine.

He was ignored for a second as Maine dug into a grape fruit with salt sprinkled over it. When his gaze finally slid towards Wash, there was a wide grin on the blonde's face.

"Thank you," Wash said. Maine wrinkled his nose, shrugging. "I know, you don't like them. You got it just for me."

Across the table, he heard South whisper, "He got all that from a wrinkled nose and a shrug? Does Wash have a fucking degree in Maine-speak or something?" There was a sharp grunt of pain as North elbowed her in the side.

"Seriously." Wash reached out, putting his palm on the back of Maine's head before he could turn back to his own meal. He bumped their foreheads together, "Thanks."

"They're doing that outside of missions now too?" York murmured. His voice was a mixture of confusion and amusement. "I'm a little jealous. I can't even get Carolina to be that affectionate in a bedroom and they're just doing it out in public."

There was another grunt of pain as North's elbow jammed into his side this time.

Wash let his hand slide away from Maine.

He focused on tearing into the cinnamon roll he had been gifted, trying not to think about how Maine and he were definitely doing the head bumping thing more often.

He tried not to think about how it was no longer a silly joke that had spawned from them crashing together, but a gesture they used to communicate things to each other.

It was a 'good luck' when one of them was on their way to a training gesture, a 'see you' when Maine inevitably left team movie night hours before Wash did, and a 'thank you' when Maine did things like get a cinnamon roll just because he knew Wash loved them.

 **V.**  
Wash came awake to a hand on his shoulder, a dark body looming over his, and a feeling like someone had just called his name.

"Maine," he slurred out, voice heavy with sleep and mouth filled with cotton. He glanced around, seeing the room had cleared around them and the movie they'd been watching as back on the menu screen. "Everyone else already head for bed?"

Maine gave a short nod then gestured his head towards the doorway that led to their room.

"I know, just gimme a second to wake up."  
  
He let his eyes drift shut for a moment.

In the brief moment he'd looked away, Maine had shifted into a more comfortable position and he was right in Wash's line of sight when he opened them again. Dark brown eyes were focused on him and the dark skinned muscles not covered by Maine's tee-shirt and sweatpants were glowing in the light of the television.

It knocked the breathe right from Wash's lungs.

Without thinking about it, he reached up. His hand rested on the back of Maine's head and one gentle push was all it took for Maine to swoop down near him. He slid his hand down to Maine's shoulder, locking his arm around his neck to keep him there.

"I think," Wash said, slowly as he digested the words himself, "that I'm in love with you and that I probably have been for a very long time now." Maine's eyes widened slightly, flickering across Wash's face. He tightened his grip. "I'm not joking, Maine."

There was a moment where they just seemed to breath each other in.

Then Maine leaned down so their foreheads bumped together. His breath was hot against Wash's face. Their lips brushed against each others, just barely, as he murmured, "It's the same for me."

Wash bit down the grin threatening to split across his lips.  
He leaned forwards and brought their lips together for a proper kiss.

 **VI.**  
Wash hummed as they sat in the helicarrier. He murmured under his breath, "I'm a genie in a bottle, you gotta rub me the right way honey."

Earlier, he and York had carried out an argument in the showers after their holo lock training. Christina Aguilera or Britney Spears.   
It had been a bitter battle, swapping lyrics and songs and reasons why one clearly triumphed.   
There had been no real agreement, half because Wash would die before saying 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' was better then 'What a Girl Wants' because that was just wrong and half because Wash had gotten pulled away to go on this mission with Maine.

He was pulled away from his thoughts by a shadow settling over him.

He didn't have to look up to know who it was. He was used to that shadow and he could feel the press of warm knees against his own.

"Maine," he said. He looked up, a grin spreading across his face. "Time to go?"

A nod.

"Alright." He went to push himself to his feet, only Maine didn't step back. He ended up standing with his body bent backwards awkwardly, struggling to keep his body balanced and upright. He quirked an eyebrow, even though Maine couldn't see it through their helmets. "You gonna let me up?"

Wash could practically see the grin stretching across Maine's face. He turned his head towards pilots chair before focusing back on Wash, rumbling, "Deja vu."

"I don't think I managed to stop myself before crashing into you last time," he said.

Maine shrugged his shoulders - the gesture communicating 'technicalities'.

"One minute!" the pilot called.

"Okay, step back and let me up, dude. This position is killing my back and we've got a job to do."

Maine reached up and put his hand on the back of Wash's head.

They leaned forward at the same time, helmets clacking together in the way they always did.

Wash let out a deep breath because this was familiar and nice. He liked the addition of kissing to their relationship, but nothing felt quite as right as bumping his head against Maine's and letting the tension seep from his body.

"Thirty seconds!" the pilot said.

He reached out, squeezing Maine's upper arms. "Time to go."


End file.
